


Thunderstorm

by hedonisticnightmares



Series: #SpnStayAtHome [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24246859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedonisticnightmares/pseuds/hedonisticnightmares
Summary: It's December 1962, and Castiel is turning 29. This takes place in the "I've Got You Under My Skin," universe.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: #SpnStayAtHome [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697713
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Thunderstorm

_20th December 1962_

Castiel opened his eyes and stared at the little clock next to his bed. He was twenty-nine years old. It was his birthday, the first one he would be having since he’d arrived home from the time he’d spent reporting in Vietnam, and the first one he’d be having in the company of Sam and Dean Winchester. He didn’t usually celebrate his birthday, or at least he hadn’t since he had moved to Philadelphia in the summer of 1956, and if things had gone on as they had been after that move, he probably never would have celebrated another one for as long as he lived. But he had already been told by Dean that he absolutely would be celebrating this year, no arguments. And of course, Castiel had offered none. Because he was terribly in love with him, and also because he was curious. 

Before Vietnam and before Philly, he had been involved with Dean—the definition of a summer romance—and even before he had made the decision to leave it all behind, he was aware that Dean had left an indelible mark on him. That they had somehow managed to reunite after so many years apart, that Dean still felt just as strongly for him in spite of all the pain he had caused him, was a miracle. They’d never gotten the chance to celebrate birthdays or holidays together, and now that they were together again, Castiel was curious about what that sort of thing might entail.

Christmas decorations were already up, had been since December 1st, Sam and Dean having both insisted that they do it right away. Dean had taken full advantage of hanging mistletoe in every doorway he could manage, and Sam lasted two weeks before he declared a ban on it, and took it all down. It didn’t do much to deter Dean from kissing Castiel whenever he got the chance. 

Castiel had never bothered much with Christmas after his grandmother died—the extent of his celebration for any birthdays or holidays had consisted of going out with Anna and the other members of The Garrison to drink and maybe cause a little bit of trouble. He knew that, logically, birthdays included cake and candles, and an embarrassing song or a gift, but he wasn’t sure he knew how normal people celebrated them anymore. He hadn’t yet celebrated the Winchester’s birthdays with them, so he wasn’t even sure what he should expect. It reminded him that he had only been with Dean, in the span of nearly six years, only about eight or nine months, and he wondered, not for the first time, if it was possible to be so lucky as to get a shot with someone as perfect as Dean twice. He’d always found that he’d had rotten luck, getting shot in Vietnam when he hadn’t even been enlisted was a testament to that, but the fact that he was with Dean almost made him believe otherwise. 

He turned over, expecting to find Dean next to him, and found the space next to him, disappointingly empty. It was one of his great joys to wake up in the mornings and find Dean smiling at him sleepily, his face still smushed against his pillow. He liked the smell of him. He still smelled the same as he had when they had been together before, and it always reminded him of how achingly beautiful that summer had been, how every time he set eyes on Dean he had been sure he was going to catch fire wherever he stood, before it all went to hell. 

They had only been together again for about six months, but the fact that he got to share a bed with Dean without having to worry about who might find them, or the fact that Dean would eventually have to leave, was easily one of his favorite things about this new version of their relationship. He generally slept poorly, and so oftentimes, he could spend great stretches of time just getting to watch Dean sleep before either of them had to be up for any reason. Some mornings, he was certain it was the most beautiful sight in the world. 

Castiel frowned. He might not have been a birthday expert, but he was fairly certain things were supposed to be going his way right now. Which meant that he was supposed to be getting to count the freckles across Dean’s nose, or at least a ‘good morning,’ kiss. He sighed, sat up, and scrubbed his hands through his hair. He’d gone to bed with it wet, and he could feel the way it stood out at odd angles. Sometimes he wondered why he didn’t just shave his head and be done with it. It never laid the way he wanted it to without the use of pommade, and he’d left those days behind him a long time ago, so it usually just did whatever it wanted to. He sighed again, reached for his cigarettes on the bedside table and then swore when his hand closed around a roll of Lifesavers rather than his Luckies. 

Dean chose that exact moment to return to their room, still dressed in his pajamas, and looking perfectly cheerful. 

At least he hadn’t left. 

“Morning, Sunshine. Happy Birthday.” Dean grinned and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him before he leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “What’s the matter? You’ve got an awful sour puss for a birthday boy,” he teased. 

Castiel couldn’t help but soften a little. “I was thinking about how a good boyfriend would let me smoke on my birthday.” 

“Deal’s a deal,” Dean told him, and reached over to the nightstand to grab the roll of hard candy there. “You smoked through that last pack already. And you said you’d quit again once you finished it. I told you to make it last.” He was half grinning, and once he freed one of the candies from the wrapper he held it between his fingers for Castiel to take. It was supposed to be his smoking alternative, and the means Castiel had used to quit the first time he’d tried, six years prior. Dean said he liked the way they made him taste, which helped, but only a little. Castiel liked to smoke; it just made everything else seem easier. Dean was just lucky he liked him more. 

“You cheated,” Castiel grumbled. And he had, Dean had gotten him to agree to that deal under duress. He’d had his hand down Castiel’s pants at the time. 

Dean laughed. “Still a deal, birthday or no,” he insisted. 

Castiel opened his mouth and Dean placed the Lifesaver carefully on his tongue, which Castiel decided to exploit by closing his mouth around his fingers and sucking.

Dean flushed as Castiel made eye contact with him and worked his tongue along his pointer finger. It was also lucky that Castiel knew for a fact that Dean couldn’t think at all when it came to the mere suggestion of anything filthy if he wasn’t the one to suggest it. It was a weakness Castiel seldom exploited—it didn’t often occur to him to do so—but it never failed to amuse him when he did. Dean looked like he was going to melt. 

“Dean, your pancakes are- oh, jeez, guys, I’m right here.” Sam had stuck his head in the door, which Dean had left cracked, and had immediately averted his eyes when he realized what he had walked in on. 

Dean quickly pulled his fingers from Castiel’s mouth, still flustered enough that Castiel felt a little triumphant and very amused.

Dean cleared his throat, “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Sammy. We’re all adults here.” He smoothed his hand over the sheets in an obvious attempt to save face, though Castiel was certain that his mind wasn’t anywhere near pancakes anymore. 

“Yeah, well, when you said you were going to get him up, I guess I didn’t realize which part of him you were talking about,” Sam said flatly. He furrowed his brows, “Happy birthday, by the way, Cas. Looks like it’s working out for you so far. I’ve gotta get to class, but I’ll see you this evening, okay?” He cast Dean a disapproving look, “I left everything covered in the oven to keep it warm.”

Castiel couldn’t see the look that Dean tossed at his brother over his shoulder, but judging from Sam’s face, it wasn’t anything especially mature.

“Bye, guys.” Sam straightened up and pulled their door shut tight behind him. 

“You were making breakfast?” Castiel asked once Dean turned his attention back to him. 

“Yeah, of course. I wanted to start your special day right,” Dean leaned in and kissed him again, this time a little more deeply, and Castiel felt a little bad for having been annoyed that Dean had been missing earlier. Dean usually made breakfast for all of them on Sundays since they were all home at the same time, but during the week he had to leave before anyone else to get to the shop where he worked, so for Castiel, breakfast usually consisted of coffee and a cigarette, or toast, now that Dean had deprived him. Sometimes Sam made something if he had classes later in the day, but Castiel had never been good about feeding himself properly, so he never minded either way. 

Dean let his hand slide along Castiel’s bare torso, his fingers brushing over the bullet scar under his ribs before he pulled away enough to speak, “Lay back,” he instructed. 

“But you made breakfast,” Castiel said, already complying with the order. 

Dean got up and climbed up to straddle Castiel’s hips, “It’ll keep. I’ll give you one of your gifts early.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss him again. 

—

They weren’t fast, and they weren’t quiet, and by the time they made it to the kitchen, Dean’s pancakes were cold, and the juice on the table was warm. Dean had used his mouth in ways that made it difficult for Castiel to watch him eat without thinking about how good it had been. When Dean had finished sucking him off, he’d kissed Castiel until he was hard again, and then hadn’t hesitated to ride him until they both saw stars. Maybe it was the fact that it was his birthday, or maybe it was just because they so rarely had the apartment to themselves, but Dean certainly didn’t bother to muffle any of his shouts or moans the way he usually did, and of course, Castiel couldn’t help feeling all the more worked up because of it. He wouldn’t complain if they decided to start their mornings that way a little more often. 

They ate in their underwear at the coffee table, a callback to the morning after they had first discovered their mutual attraction so many years ago. It made Castiel smile, and the amused, slightly embarrassed silence they shared as through the meal because of the way the neighbor had banged on the wall when Dean had gotten particularly loud and enthusiastic, was comfortable and familiar. Castiel wasn’t sure how he’d face the neighbor the next time he saw them without thinking about Dean moaning his name or how good he looked with his back arched and his face flushed over top of him. 

They did dishes together afterwards, the radio playing Christmas music in the background, and though Dean insisted that Castiel let him take care of them, he refused to let him. Castiel usually did the dishes—it was one of the things he did that made him feel useful, especially since he still hadn’t really managed to find steady work yet—and he liked to look through the window over the sink as he did it. There wasn’t much in the way of a view, but usually, the sun was out, and he could watch people as they passed by. Unfortunately, it was extremely grey today, and he realized with a start that it never really rained in California. It was December, and it was the first time since he had moved there that the sky had looked even remotely grey enough to produce rain. In fact, he didn’t think he’d seen much rain at all since he’d been stateside. Even Philadelphia had been pretty dry when he got back, and about the only positive thing he could say about the week he’d spent on the train to get from there to California was that there had been no notable weather to speak of. He probably hadn’t seen rain since he’d been in Vietnam. The thought made a shudder run through him.

Dean bumped him with his elbow, “You all right over there?” 

“Fine,” Castiel answered automatically. 

Dean set aside the dish he had just finished drying and cocked a skeptical brow at him, “You wanna try that again? I just gave you everything a man could ask for—mind blowing sex and a full, sort of warm brunch—and you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Castiel huffed a laugh and shook his head, “Everything but a smoke.” 

“Cas, are you tellin’ me my ass isn’t worth at least a pack of your precious Luckies? Anyway, I gave you a Lifesaver instead.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter to face him. “But if you’d rather the Luckies, I can just keep my ass to myself in the future.” 

Castiel choked on nothing but air and fell into a coughing fit. 

Dean snorted and patted him on the back until his breathing eased again, “See, you needed to quit.” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him, “Fine. I’ll keep the candy,” he croaked. “But it’s my birthday, so if I don’t want to talk about this right now, we don’t have to, right?” He pulled the drain plug and set it on the back of the sink. He wasn’t a good liar, and Sam and Dean seemed especially skilled at knowing when he was making an attempt to hide things from them, so it was better if he just flat out said he wanted to avoid something rather than try to evade it. Rain made him think of Vietnam and being shot, and it looked like it might rain. He just didn’t want to get into a discussion about it. Mostly, he liked not thinking about it whenever he could, because his nights were so often interrupted by the nightmares his time there had brought him. 

Dean frowned, “Fine, but only if you come with me to the shop here in a little bit. The bosslady called and asked me to swing by and take a look at something—that kid she hired has no idea what he’s doing. He’s totally clueless.” 

Castiel dried his hands and took Dean by his hips. He studied his face for a moment, the freckles he’d missed seeing that morning, his eyelashes, and finally his ridiculously perfect mouth, “You’re beautiful, you know that?” It was difficult to keep the reverence from his voice, because he had never been able to look at Dean Winchester and think he was anything less than exquisite. Even when he was irritated with him, half the time, he found himself caught up thinking about how much he loved him. It was pathetic, actually, and he had expected himself to have grown out of it some by now, but it was like a switch that flipped any time he was within ten feet of him. 

He leaned in and kissed him, “You’ve got a deal though. I’ll follow you anywhere.” 

Dean grinned, though it was softer than usual, almost shy, and he leaned in for another kiss before he made himself pull away, “All right, all right, Cas-anova go get ready, you tease. I don’t think Sam is gonna appreciate it if we get going in the kitchen. And I don’t want to deal with the clean-up. You’d better bring a jacket, it’s kinda cool out.”

Castiel went to get cleaned up and dressed, and made sure he grabbed the candy from the nightstand to keep in his pocket. Dean’s ass for his cigarettes. He drove a hard bargain, but sometimes you just had to suck it up and fight the good fight. 

—

Dean drove them to the shop, and Castiel expected to wait for him in the truck, so he was a little surprised when Dean came around and opened his door for him. “C’mon, I dunno how long it’ll take me in there, and I doubt you want to twiddle your thumbs out here. Not with the sky looking like it does.” 

Castiel climbed out of the truck and glanced at the ever-greying sky. He wondered if rain here was different than rain anywhere else, and if they were going to get caught in it. He hoped they didn’t. 

Generally, he avoided the shop. It wasn’t like it had been before, where Dean had owned his own garage in a small town, and he could show up whenever and makeout with him in the office if there were no customers and Sam wasn’t around. This place was bigger, eight bays to the two at Dean’s old garage, and Dean worked for someone else. He said that his boss—Billie, Castiel was pretty sure was her name—was good people, but since Castiel had only met her once, and had been introduced as a “friend from back home,” he wasn’t sure. She hadn’t seemed to like him, particularly, but then she didn’t really seem to like anyone. He couldn’t really blame her. He’d never been much of a people person himself, and he doubted it was easy for her to own an auto shop as a black woman, even in a place like California. Despite his apprehension about her feelings toward him and his relationship to Dean, he couldn’t help feeling impressed by her. 

Even so, he didn’t want to hang around and make things more difficult for Dean. He was established there, and Castiel had turned up out of the clear blue from anyone else’s point of view. Besides, he was useless with cars, and even though Dean had told him he could train him enough to be competent with oil changes and routine maintenance, Castiel didn’t feel as confident. 

Castiel kept a respectable distance between them as they went inside. After the morning they’d had, he didn’t trust himself not to try to take Dean’s hand if they walked too close. As accustomed as he had grown to keeping his feelings hidden when they were in public, sometimes it was almost too much for him to stand. 

Dean waved at one of the guys in the shop, a young, good-looking kid that Castiel was almost surprised was old enough to work there. “Heya, kid,” Dean approached him, and Castiel followed after him. “Everything all right?” 

“Hullo, Dean. Who’s this?” he turned his attention to Castiel. “I’m Jack,” he stuck out his hand for Castiel to take, an over-eager smile on his face. He realized a beat later that there was grease on his palm and wiped it down the front of his jumpsuit before he offered it again. If there wasn’t something so strange about him, Castiel would have said he seemed wholesome. 

Dean snorted, “A good friend of mine. I mentioned him to you before.Today’s his birthday.”

Hesitantly, Castiel shook Jack’s hand, “Castiel.” 

Jack’s brows lifted as he looked from Dean to Castiel, while he shook Castiel’s hand. It was a little unnerving.

“Oh,” he said, and his brows lifted higher, “Oh, yeah, happy birthday.” He let go of Castiel’s hand, “I’ll go, uh,” he pointed behind him in a vague sort of way, and turned to go when Dean nodded at him like he was a few steps behind whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. 

“That’s…the new kid, I guess?” Castiel asked once he was out of earshot. 

Dean sighed, but it was a fond sort of sigh, like he just didn’t know what he was going to do with him, “Yeah. He’s enthusiastic, but just a little odd. Pretty fast learner though. If I work with him, he might get the hang of it all soon enough.”

“You seem to like each other,” Castiel pointed out for no reason in particular. 

Dean turned a sly grin on him, “Is that your jealousy peeking through again, Castiel Novak?” 

Castiel scowled, “Don’t be ridiculous. He looks like he’s half my age. I’m just making an observation” 

“He’s older than he looks, you know. He came up from Hollywood. His mom was some sort of silent film star. Probably where he got his looks.”

“I’m going to wait in the truck,” Castiel said, refusing to play into Dean’s jealousy fetish, while knowing that was exactly what he was doing. For whatever reason, Dean had always gotten a kick out of seeing him act possessively, and he did what he could to get a rise out of Castiel when he saw an opening. Castiel usually did his best to resist any old impulse he might have had to brawl with anyone he saw as a threat, but even before things had gotten serious with Dean, he had once nearly broken a man’s wrist for getting too familiar with him. He didn’t feel any violent impulses toward Jack—he seemed like a nice enough kid—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of how much extra time he probably got to spend with Dean just because they worked together in the shop. Sometimes, he missed being able to swing by the garage just to watch Dean work or to chat with him. He didn’t have a bike anymore though, and he was only just getting used to the bus system, so swinging by even to have lunch with him wasn’t something he got to do very often. He pulled a Lifesaver from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. 

“Wait, wait,” Dean said, laughing as he grabbed his arm. “C’mon. I’m just teasing.” He leaned in and tweaked Castiel’s nose playfully, “You know, like The Flamingos song, ‘I only have eyes for you,’” he crooned the lyric into Castiel’s ear, probably as close as he dared getting to a kiss while they were standing in the middle of the shop. He straightened up, “Now, let’s go, I want to show you something. Close your eyes.” 

Castiel frowned, “Why?” 

“Would you stop being so suspicious and just close ‘em?”

Castiel did as he was told, though his frown didn’t lift, and he felt Dean settle his hands on his shoulders so he could steer him where he wanted him to go. If Castiel didn’t trust him so implicitly, he might have been nervous walking blind through a strange shop filled with all sorts of tools that would have been unpleasant to run into even if he had been able to see. 

“All right,” Dean said when they finally stopped again. 

Castiel opened his eyes to find Jack standing across from him, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back. He seemed kind of sweet and Castiel felt bad that he’d had even the slightest feeling of irritation toward him. A moment later, he noticed the large, tarped object next to him. Castiel looked over his shoulder at Dean, who was grinning ear to ear. 

“Okay,” he said, as he came around to stand on the other side of the tarp from Jack, “It’s not finished yet, but, well- you’ll see. Jack, will you do the honors?” 

Jack smiled and inclined his head. “Of course.” He made a little flourish and stepped over and carefully pulled the tarp back. 

Castiel stared blankly at the bike in front of him, unable to process what he was seeing or what it meant. The body wasn’t in the best shape, and paint was peeling from it, but he recognized the make. There was something building in his chest, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was yet. 

“It’s a 1953 Indian Chief,” Jack said matter-of-factly. “Bit of a clunker, but a nice piece of real estate. It was the last model of bike Indian produced before they went belly-up. Actually, this bike was used on the set of-”

“Jack…” Dean held up his hand to quiet him, and approached Castiel like he might a scared animal. “Cas, you okay?”

Castiel blinked several times and finally came back to himself to look at Dean, “This is…” 

“Happy Birthday,” Dean said, a small smile on his lips. “It’s- like I said, it isn’t finished. We’ve still got some work to do on it before it’s road-ready, and we gotta do some body work, but it’s not bad, right? I figured you could paint a new pair of wings on it if you wanted. And it’s bigger than your old one, so, you know, more room for two or whatever.” Dean blushed faintly. “Believe it or not, the reason Jack doesn’t know a thing about cars is ‘cause the kid’s a bike wiz. Worked on the stunt bikes when he lived in Hollywood and helped me get this one for a pretty good price.” 

Dean was doing that adorable rambling thing that Castiel loved, where he talked too much when he got nervous. Castiel was going to cry. And it didn’t matter that Jack was standing right there, or that the bike couldn’t be ridden yet, because he was deeply and irrevocably in love with the man in front of him. 

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean and tucked his face against his shoulder before his tears fell, because the thing that had been building in his chest when he first set eyes on the bike had apparently been a tiny storm, and it was currently breaking inside of him. 

Dean returned his hug and asked Jack if he could give them a minute once it became clear that Castiel wasn’t going to let go of him any time soon. 

“Why would you-” Cas started, as he tried to pull himself together, “It’s too much. I can’t-” 

“You absolutely can,” Dean said. “It’s not a big deal. Things just lined up. Ever since you told me you sold your old bike, I haven’t been able to get it off my mind. You know, it- it brought you to me, and I know how much you loved it, so I wanted you to have one again. And then Jack turned up, and it just seemed right, you know?” 

“I’m placing a moratorium on gifts from you. No more for the next ten years, at least.” Castiel muttered into his shoulder, still a little bleary eyed. 

Dean laughed, “I don’t know why.” 

“Because,” Castiel drew back from him, and his eyes were wet and determined, “You’re always doing things for me, or getting me things. I haven’t managed to do anything or give you anything worth half of what you’ve given me, and it’s not right.” 

“Cas, it’s not a competition. It’s your birthday. And Christmas in less than a week. Call it a two-for. I like doing things for you. I like taking care of you. I wanted to get you something that you could call yours. So you could get around on your own or take some time away from us if you needed it. And I couldn’t have pulled it off without Jack’s help, so it’s not like it was all me anyway.” 

Castiel pulled him close again, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. If anyone saw them, he could pass it off as friendly if he had to. “You’re too perfect, Dean Winchester,” he whispered, “I love you so much.” 

He could hear Dean’s grin, “Yeah, I know.”

They parted, and Castiel went to inspect the bike, his hands sliding over every curve, while Dean went and found Jack again. Castiel listened while he explained where the bike had come from, and how it had been used as a stunt bike on various film sets. When he finished, Castiel shook his hand, and then, just because there was nowhere left for his feelings to go, he hugged him too. 

Jack said he was happy to help, and that he’d like to go riding with him once they finished the work, as he returned his hug with enthusiasm. 

By the time they headed back to the truck, the sky had darkened considerably, but apart from that, it didn’t look as though rain was any more likely than it had been when they arrived. It just seemed as though night had come a little early. Dean drove them home, and before he could get out of the car, Castiel took his hand and kissed the back of it. “No more gifts today,” Castiel told him when he pulled away. “And there had better not be any on Christmas either.” 

“All right,” Dean said, half amused. “No more. At least not until I open my own garage again. Promise.” 

Castiel frowned at him, not quite sure whether or not he believed him, but willing to take it at face value for now. He could still hardly believe he was going to be able to ride again soon. The bike he’d had before, a 1937 Indian Junior Scout, looked like a trike next to the one Dean had found for him, but he missed it all the same. It had been one of the first purchases he’d made for himself once he’d been old enough, and it had made him feel freer than anything or anyone else had before he’d met Dean. It was why he’d painted a set of wings down the middle of it, and why, by some incredible twist of fate, he had ended up in the arms of Dean Winchester. 

—- 

Although the sky continued to look generally dark and threatening, they made it the entire evening without rainfall. When they had entered the apartment, Castiel had nearly been given a heart attack when Sam and several of their friends and neighbors shouted ‘Surprise!’ and blew kazoos at them. In fact, he’d gone straight to the room he shared with Dean after he offered a stiff “Thanks,” to all of them. His heart was pounding, and his vision had gone a little wrong, and it was all he could do to get himself to the edge of the bed without looking as alarmed as he felt. 

It took him several minutes to calm himself down again, the shock of the surprise party having flipped the switch in his brain labeled ‘Vietnam.’ He hated that switch. Half the time, he couldn’t determine when it would flip and when it wouldn’t. Sure, the nightmares were always there, but they varied in severity, and some days he was totally fine, while others he couldn’t stand to be in the market full of people, or worse than that, were the days when he couldn’t stand to be alone. Today, he attributed his reaction to the fact that he had already been given too much for his brain to process when Dean had gifted him the new bike. 

Sam knocked on the door a few minutes later, a party hat tilted jauntily on his head, nearly lost in the waves of his overgrown hair. “Hey, uh, Cas, can I come in?” 

Castiel didn’t say anything, just inclined his head to indicate that Sam’s company was welcome enough. 

“You okay?” he asked as he sat down next to him on the bed. He pulled his hat from his head and held it between his hands. “Sorry we scared you. We just didn’t think about the fact that… I guess we were just excited to have you around again. We should have thought it through a little more.” 

“Sam, no,” Castiel sighed, “It just caught me off guard. It’s fine. Your brother… had already given me a shock not too much earlier. I just wasn’t ready for another one quite so soon,” it wasn’t quite the truth, but not really a lie either. 

Sam smirked, “The bike? Did you like it?” 

“You knew?” 

“Sure,” Sam tucked his hair behind his ears, “We planned it. Well, I figured it was a good way to get you out of the house so I could set up for the party. He wanted to wait until he finished the work on it to give it to you, but it wasn’t going to be ready in time, and I could tell he was excited about giving it to you, so I made a suggestion.” 

“It was… a very grand gesture. More than I deserve,” Castiel told him. 

“Cas,” Sam tilted his head to look at him, “Dean is crazy about you. I know that maybe you don’t always believe me when I say it, but we’re both happier when you’re around. I haven’t seen Dean like this in years. I don’t know, maybe it’s the honeymoon phase or- or whatever, but if he can still feel like that about you even after so long apart, that’s gotta mean something, right? He just wants to show it. And we both like having you around. So, try not to think about that kind of thing too much.” He put his arm over Castiel’s shoulders and pulled him into a half hug. “Do you think you can stomach the party, or do you want me to get Dean to send everyone home?” 

Sam had always had a way of communicating with Castiel that made him feel as though he was able to read his thoughts. It generally required him to say very little about his own feelings, which Castiel had come to appreciate when they had first become acquainted. Back then, he’d been terrified that anything he said would give him away, so he usually chose to say little or nothing at all. When they had all reunited, Castiel had felt that maybe Sam had lost that particular ability, but after months of living with him, he determined that he had just grown more reserved about the way he used it than he had been when he’d been a fifteen year old kid. He’d grown more controlled over the years—rather than asking a million and one questions every chance he got, he seemed to pick and choose which ones were important enough to bother asking at a given time. It made sense for someone who planned to become a lawyer.

Castiel shook his head, “No, I’ll come out.” 

The party was a lively one, and though Castiel didn’t really know everyone that Sam and Dean had invited, it quickly became apparent that they were all either like them or had no qualms about the idea of two men that wanted to share their lives with one another. After they sang to him, and Castiel had blown out the candles on his cake, Dean kissed him right in front of everyone, and they all cheered heartily. Sam took a few pictures of them together—pictures any other couple might have taken at a party together—and the night went on enjoyably. Castiel wasn’t sure he’d ever been in a situation where he’d felt so normal. 

When he’d been younger, he’d occasionally visit places where he could find the company of men like him, but it was always sort of secretive, and like so many things he did during that time, there was a dangerous edge to being there. The party wasn’t like that. It felt like any party that he might have gone to, except that for once, he didn’t have to sneak out back if he wanted to kiss someone, and no one cared about what he might be doing behind closed doors. He’d never felt so relaxed or happy in a room full of people, certainly not since he’d come back. 

By the time everyone had gone, and Sam and Dean had more or less cleaned up the apartment, Castiel was just drunk enough to fall directly asleep once Dean had helped him clean up and tucked him in. He rarely drank, had never much cared for it, but he’d wanted to enjoy himself, and he liked the look on Dean’s face when he’d stolen a swig of his beer without asking. “Was a very happy birthday,” he’d muttered as he drifted off, the feel of Dean’s lips still warm on his forehead. 

—-

He wasn’t sure which it was that startled him, the lightning or the thunder, but he shouted and sat upright in bed, right as lightning flashed outside the window, his shirt plastered to his skin, and his heart rabbit fast behind his ribs. 

“Hey, hey, Cas, shh, it’s okay.” Dean’s voice was groggy, and Castiel jumped at his touch, still not totally aware of his surroundings. 

He sighed and folded himself over, his forehead to his knees, when he realized that it was just Dean sitting up next to him.

“It’s just me, baby,” Dean said softly, as he rubbed back in circles. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

Castiel was grateful he hadn’t tried to embrace him. Sometimes it made him feel better, and other times it made things worse. He felt like this was probably one of those times when it would have been worse. Luckily, Dean seemed to be a fast learner, and in the months since Castiel had moved in with him and Sam, Dean had done well to learn when his nightmares required distance, and when it was better to hold him tightly. 

Dean waited until Castiel’s breathing evened out before he said, “Tell me what you need.” 

Castiel breathed out and pulled his fingers through the front of his hair, “I’m- I’m fine,” he said. 

He jumped as a clap of thunder shuddered the apartment and he felt Dean slide his hand up to rest against the back of his neck. “Cas-”

There was a knock at their bedroom door, and Castiel looked up. 

“Everything all right in there?” Sam sounded mildly worried, and Castiel felt the weight of shame settle more fully on his shoulders. He must have screamed louder than usual.

“We’re all good, Sammy,” Dean called. 

“Well, okay. Just, uh, thought I’d check.” 

Castiel could imagine the way Sam was probably shuffling outside the door, unsure whether or not he should believe them. 

“Seems like the thunderstorm’s knocked the power out, so there are candles in the kitchen if you need them.”

“Thanks, got it,” Dean called. “You wanna talk about it?” Dean asked gently as he turned his attention back to Castiel, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the bones in Castiel’s neck. It was too dark to make out much, but Castiel imagined his expression was as soft as his voice had been.

Castiel shook his head and Dean sighed. He seldom told Dean about the things he dreamed, reluctant to relive any part of the horrors he sometimes saw when he closed his eyes. He cleared his throat, “It… I think it was just the thunder. Startled me. I’ll be fine. I need to smoke.” He unfolded himself and took a deep breath as he shifted to put his feet on the floor.

“You’re supposed to be quitting,” Dean muttered. “You can’t smoke all your troubles away, Cas. Anyway, you don’t have any cigarettes left. Pop a damn Lifesaver.”

Dean was annoyed with him. Of course he was, he’d probably been jolted out of sleep by Castiel screaming bloody murder next to him. It would have been enough to annoy anyone. Frankly, he wasn’t sure why Dean still agreed to sleep next to him at all. They probably would have done well to invest in separate beds. 

“It’s… “ he closed his eyes and tried to regroup, “I am quitting. It’s a process.” He took another deep breath as he tried to get his heart rate back under control. 

He heard Dean exhale and felt his weight shift on the bed. “All right, can you cut the bull for, like, five seconds?” 

Castiel turned to face him, his brows drawn together in confusion, though he doubted Dean could see any more than he could, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that, Cas,” Dean said tiredly. “You say you’re fine. But you’re not. It’s obvious you’re not. But you never talk to me. I love you. I think you know how much. But I can’t do this.” 

Castiel felt his heart sink in his chest. He dreaded this conversation. Despite Dean’s reassurances that he wanted him, there was always a tiny part of Castiel that told him he wasn’t good enough for someone like Dean, that eventually he’d wake up and realize he was tired of him. 

He didn’t know what he’d do without him. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t survive. His body was perfectly capable of carrying him from place to place, functioning in the way a body was supposed to, even when Dean wasn’t anywhere he could reach. The nearly six years they had spent apart was proof of that. But he didn’t want to live without him. He’d done it once, and he’d regretted every second of it. And if this was Dean’s breaking point, if he was breaking things off with him right now, hours after he’d turned twenty-nine years old, he didn’t know what he was going to do with himself. 

There was a bright flash of lighting, followed by a sharp clap of thunder that had Castiel’s heart rabbiting away again, though he couldn’t be certain if it was the noise or the fear that Dean was slipping through his fingers that had him nearly in tears. 

Dean must have caught the look of terror in his eyes when the lightning struck, because he moved closer to him and smoothed Castiel’s hair from his face, “Shhh, Cas,” gently, he brought him to his chest, “Come here.” He shifted, and situated Castiel’s legs so that they were facing one another, Castiel’s knees up by Dean’s hips. He hugged him, but kept their embrace loose enough that Castiel could easily pull away if he wanted. 

He didn’t want to. He wanted to keep Dean as close to him as possible so he wouldn’t lose him. 

“I don’t want to live without you,” Castiel told him. 

Dean’s hands stilled against Castiel’s back, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking you not to leave me,” Castiel told him tremulously. “I know I… I’ve never been good with words, but please don’t leave me.I never should have left before, but please…” He swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat and held him a little tighter.

Dean pulled away from him and kissed his forehead, “What are you saying? I’m not going anywhere, you dumbass. I just want you to talk to me. I want to be there for you.” He pressed their foreheads together briefly before he disentangled their bodies, “Take that sweaty shirt off. I’ll be right back,” he told him. 

He left the room and Castiel did as he was told. He still felt unsettled in spite of Dean’s assurance that he wasn’t leaving him. He wanted him to talk to him. It was almost as scary as the thought of losing him, but he knew which one he preferred. He could try. 

Dean returned moments later holding a couple of candles, and set one on each of their night stands before he climbed back into bed to sit across from Castiel. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean told him. “I’m never leaving you, so just get that out of your head, okay? Things are just… better when you’re around. I don’t want to go back to the way I felt before I met you, or how I felt after you left.” 

“I’m always scared,” Castiel told him, honestly. “Dean, I’m terrified. I’ve been terrified of you since the day I set eyes on you. You know that. Because you just… You can look at me, and I want to move mountains for you.”

“Is that all it is? Because, Cas, like I said earlier, I don’t need-”

“No, that’s not all,” Castiel said, his voice trembling. “It’s not just you that terrifies me anymore. It’s the whole world. This storm, fireworks on the Fourth, too many people in one place, not enough people in one place, an unexpected surprise party, whatever the hell kind of nightmare I’m going to have when I close my own eyes. There are things that I can’t get out of my head no matter what I do, things I couldn’t look away from when I was over there because it was my job to document it, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get a handle on it.” He took a breath and tried to calm down. “I want to be… whatever you need me to be. I want to be the one that takes care of you sometimes, but I know- I know that even if your smile makes me want to move mountains or lasso the damn moon, I- I can’t manage it.” His voice broke on those last words, his shame getting the better of him. “Even if I find a steady job, I don’t know that I can keep it. I don’t know whether or not something there might scare me so badly I can’t move, or I break down in front of someone and they cart me off somewhere. I love you so much, but there are just some things that I can’t-”

Dean was staring at him like he had never seen him before, and when he reached out to put his hands on his knees, Castiel couldn’t help but flinch. 

He had never felt for anyone the way he felt for Dean. He wasn’t even sure he was capable of feeling that way for another person again. The closest he had come was a year after he had moved to Philly—the guy that had tattooed his wings on his back for him—and it was nothing compared to the feelings he’d had for Dean since before he had managed a coherent conversation with him. The man he’d met there had been a welcome distraction, but next to Dean, Castiel might as well have never learned his name. And yet, he could hardly explain to him the reasons for why the Vietnam-switch in his brain made him want to hide sometimes.

Dean was quiet for a long time, and the only sound in the room was that of the storm outside their window, no sign of letting up anytime soon. “Okay,” he said finally. 

“Okay?” 

“Okay. If there are things that you can’t say to me, then okay. I get that. You know that my dad drank himself to death, and I don’t think that he’d have done it half as fast if he hadn’t gone to fight the Germans in the war. He never talked about it either, but he buried it in drink and meanness, and I want you to promise me that you won’t do that. That if it comes to that or talking, you’ll at least tell me that you need me. Even if it’s just to hold you.” He slid his fingers along the scars on Castiel’s thigh, the one under his ribs, “I’ll never let anyone take you away from me, no matter how bad it gets. But I feel like there are parts of you that I’m missing sometimes, and that scares me. Because my dad… I don’t want you to become what he became.”

“I won’t, Dean,” Castiel told him. He took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss him. “I promise, I won’t,” he said. It was a promise he intended to keep, no matter how difficult it became. He’d sooner die than drink away the memory of Dean Winchester or raise a hand against him.

“I know you don’t feel good about it, but don’t worry about finding work right now, we’ll figure something out. I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows someone looking for a photographer. There’s always someone. I just want you,” Dean told him. “I want you to be okay. Not perfect, just you. I want to be able to take care of you, but if we need to find someone who can help you… Someone you can talk to who isn’t me, we can do that too.” He took Castiel’s hand and kissed the palm, “If you need that, if we need to find someone to help you with this, tell me, okay?” 

Castiel licked his lips and cupped Dean’s jaw, “I promise,” he told him. “But right now, I just need you to make me forget the storm.” He kissed him again, leaned back, and pulled him down over him. 

He couldn’t talk about it. Not right now. He wasn’t sure he ever would be able to, with Dean or anyone else, but he would make the effort to make sure Dean knew that he couldn’t manage any of it without him. 

Dean didn’t say anything else, just did as Castiel asked, kissed and touched him until he had almost forgotten that it was raining at all. And when Dean finally slid into him, just as slowly and carefully as he had done everything else that night, Castiel could think of nothing else. They didn’t usually do things this way, mostly because he found it completely overwhelming to have Dean inside of him. He’d never have been able to function on a daily basis if they did it like this every time. He wanted him slower and he wanted him faster; he wanted it to go on forever, and he wanted it to end right away, and no matter what he did, or how good it felt, he didn’t think his body would ever be able to process it all at once. It was a feeling he didn’t have words for, one he didn’t think he’d ever find words for no matter how often he allowed Dean inside of him this way, and it was the absolute perfect distraction from everything he didn’t want to think about, simply because he couldn’t think at all. 

It was wordless and intense, Dean’s fingers interlaced his as they moved against one another, his kisses swallowing any of the incomprehensible noises Castiel happened to make. He never felt as close to anyone as he did when Dean was like this with him, and he half believed that he’d never have to speak again because after this they’d be psychically linked, their minds melding together as their bodies had. Anything less than that seemed impossible. 

When they finished, Dean cleaned them both up, and then tucked himself against Castiel’s chest. He knew Dean preferred to hold him, but this allowed Castiel to avoid feeling trapped if a nightmare got the better of him. However, the way he kept Castiel’s hand tucked against his chest, still kept him close in a way that Dean seemed to be able to appreciate. 

Castiel was twenty-nine years old, and in spite of the nightmares that the thunderstorm had brought him, the memories of being shot, of the horrors of being surrounded by the screams of the injured and dying, he wasn’t alone. Maybe one day he wouldn’t scream himself awake, or maybe the nightmares would never end; he honestly didn’t know. But what he did know was that he had Dean Winchester in his arms, and as long as he was willing to stay by his side, he’d keep fighting against the part of himself that wanted to collapse under the strain of it all. They would see what the morning would bring, and they’d face it together.

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you who have read I've Got You Under My Skin, I promised more, and I've finally delivered just a little bit! I hope you've enjoyed this. I didn't want to set things too far ahead, but I wanted to work on something that would still be significant to the guys. 
> 
> For those of you who are just here for SpnStayAtHome prompts, I hope you liked it as well! I tried to fill in as much as possible so you wouldn't feel lost within in this world if you hadn't read IGYUMS, but I didn't want to give so much detail that people who had would be bored.


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